


Lies and Mistletoe

by luulapants



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Christmas, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Holidays, Jordan Parrish is from Iowa, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Mutual Pining, POV Derek Hale, Scheming Peter Hale, Sharing a Bed, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27819250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luulapants/pseuds/luulapants
Summary: "Hey, um, did they happen to say anything… anything about...”“About how they think we’re dating?” Derek supplied flatly.There was a long, awkward pause. When Jordan spoke again, Derek could hear the cringe in his voice. “There’s a really good explanation for that,” he insisted.---When Jordan can't make it back to Iowa for the holidays, his parents surprise him and Derek with a visit to California. The catch? Apparently Jordan told them that he and Derek are dating. Peter, for his part, seems far too comfortable with the situation.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Jordan Parrish
Comments: 62
Kudos: 124





	1. A Harmless Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Jordan Parrish Appreciation Week 2020](https://jordanparrishappreciation.tumblr.com/).

“If I have to tell you to stop worrying one more time, I’m going to give you something to worry about.” Derek tucked the phone between his left shoulder and ear, movements awkward as his right arm moved in sharp, quick jerks.

On the other end of the line, Scott said, “What’s that pounding noise?” and Stiles frantically added, “Are you fighting right now? Oh my god, is that something banging on a door? Did you get attacked by some sort of creature and you had to trap it and now it’s pounding at the door trying to get out?”

Derek sighed and looked down at the vegetable grater and bowl of water on his counter. “That’s the sound of me making hash browns,” he explained patiently. He set aside the nub of one potato and reached for the next. “The only danger here is a few impending hangovers, and I’ve got that handled.”

He heard the click of heels in the stairwell.

“I feel bad,” Scott insisted. “I feel like I should be there.”

Derek smiled fondly. “It’s going to be just like last year. Everyone is going to be with their families or on vacation. No one’s going to be here.”

“ _You’re_ going to be there.”

“And I’ll be fine,” Derek reassured. “I’m pretty sure Lydia is on her way in here with a whole list of things to keep me busy. Besides, I’ve got Cora.” The main door slid open. “And Peter. Unfortunately.”

Stiles’s voice cut in again. “He didn’t open my present yet, did he?”

There was a small scuffle on the line, and then Scott’s voice again: “Just promise you’ll call if anything goes wrong, okay? Anything. I’m serious.”

“You got it.” Derek set aside another nub of potato as Lydia came up behind him in the kitchen. “Enjoy your trip. Merry Christmas.”

“You, too.”

Derek hung up and wiped his hands on a kitchen rag before turning to face her. He held his hand out. “Alright, let’s see it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lydia lied smoothly. “I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas before we head out.”

Derek kept his hand out, a bemused expression spread across his face. “Mhm. And the apartment?”

She pulled a folded sheet of paper from her coat pocket. “Well, now that you mention it, there _are_ a few things that could use fixing while I’m out. _If_ you’re not too busy.”

Erica had dropped her list off two days previously, and Derek was pretty sure he had a third on the way about the rattling furnace fan in unit 402. At least, he hoped so. Malia was just as likely to try to fix it herself without so much as a google search on how, inevitably making the problem ten times worse.

Looking the paper over, Derek read aloud: “Change lights in living room – need ladder. Kitchen faucet leaking. Fridge making weird sound.” He glanced up. “What kind of weird sound?”

“Like there’s a small creature inside knocking to be let out.”

The compressor, then. Derek hummed and tucked the note into the pocket. “Is Cora still using the second bedroom?” he asked. He turned on the burner under the skillet and poured some oil in.

“Oh,” Lydia said, sounding mildly uncomfortable. “Sort of. She’s mostly been staying with – ”

“Aiden,” he filled in. “Got it. Just want to make sure she won’t be bitching about me getting in there early.”

Derek had long since given up on keeping track of the break-ups and make-ups in the pack: who was casual or committed, poly or monogamous. They had slowly taken up every unit in the building, and the majority shifted from apartment to apartment, bed to bed, like they were trying out mattresses in a store. Derek, Peter, and Jordan lived alone and stayed put on the penthouse, fourth, and second floors, respectively. Boyd and Erica had been together since high school and had the apartment next to Jordan’s.

The rest of them? Domestic anarchy.

Outside, he could hear the frantic pounding of feet on the stairs.

Lydia leaned over his shoulder as he drained the potatoes, pecking him on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Derek. I’ll see you on the thirtieth.”

Sneakers squeaked on the floor in the hallway.

“Merry Christmas, Lyds. Have a safe trip.”

The door banged open. He could sense Lydia’s jolt of surprise behind him, but didn’t so much as turn around himself. “Liam, what on earth?” she sighed.

“Derek’s making hash browns.”

“Seriously?” Her laugh moved away from Derek, toward the door. He started a flame under a second skillet and started cracking eggs into a bowl.

“What? The man makes good hash browns.”

Waving a fork toward the breakfast bar, Derek said, “Give it ten minutes. Grab some plates. Are Mason and Corey – ” He heard more squeaking shoes on the stairs and shook his head. “Got it.”

Derek started stirring milk and spices into the eggs, whipping them into a froth. “Stay out of trouble!” Lydia called back to him.

“Hash browns?” Mason panted from the door, out of breath. Corey appeared at his side seconds later.

“Hash browns,” Liam agreed.

“Thank god,” Mason groaned. “I feel like my head’s gonna explode. Dude, you have _got_ to stop letting me drink that much.” He and Corey more or less poured themselves onto the stools at the breakfast bar, Corey planting himself face-first on the counter with a groan.

“I didn’t hear that,” said yet another voice, and Derek’s lips spread into a grin. Still stirring the eggs, he turned, the bowl held against his stomach. Jordan stood at the door, arms folded over his stomach. He was in uniform already, the bulky brown winter jacket slung over one arm.

“Drinking grape juice,” Derek informed him with mock seriousness. “We would never enable underage drinking in this pack.”

“So much grape juice,” Corey mumbled.

“Uh-huh.” Jordan was trying to fight a smirk off his face and failing.

“Did you catch Lydia on her way out?” Derek asked. He set the eggs aside and started pouring the shredded potatoes into the spitting oil.

“Yep. Malia, too. She asked me to tell you Merry Christmas and give you this note?”

Derek had his hands full with seasonings, but he glanced over his shoulder to see Jordan holding a slip of paper. “It’s a to-do list,” he said. “Put it on the fridge?”

Liam stood at the other end of the kitchen, pulling plates down from a cabinet. “Parrish, are you staying for breakfast?” he asked.

“I wish. I have to head to work. Just wanted to wish you three Happy Holidays.” The boys echoed back a discordant chorus of holiday wishes. He turned back to Derek, rubbing his earlobe between his thumb and forefinger. It was a cute little fidget Derek had been noticing more and more lately. “You gonna be around for dinner?” Jordan asked.

Derek turned back from the stove and found himself caught in the cross-hairs of one of Jordan’s thousand megawatt smiles. He should have been used to them by now, but he still sometimes blushed at being the target of so much concentrated friendliness. “Uh, yeah,” he agreed. “I can pick something up for when you get back. Text me if you get a craving.”

“Will do.”

Jordan headed out, leaving Derek staring at the closed door to the loft for a few seconds too long. When he looked away, it was to find three sets of narrowed eyes fixed on him.

“What?” he asked.

“Hm,” said Mason.

“Hash browns are burning,” said Liam.

“Shit,” Derek muttered.

* * *

  
  


Derek was bent over Lydia’s sink, tightening the knobs, when he heard a door buzzer go off on the second floor. He frowned and stretched his senses out, trying to listen for anyone left in the building. No one except whoever was in the lobby, trying to get in.

He grabbed a rag from the counter and wiped the grease off his hands. More than one person, he thought, but it was hard to tell from the third floor, through all the hum of the building. Derek spared a glance for the intercom next to Lydia’s door, considering just calling down, but decided to just head downstairs himself. Just in case.

Things were never completely calm in Beacon Hills. Their pack had a much stronger foothold in the territory now, with a reputation for dispatching threats, but an active nematon meant they never went too long without something supernatural and unsavory showing up. After everything they had been through, Derek desperately wanted it to be okay for Scott to go on vacation, spend time with his family, relax. The fact was that, with so much of the pack scattered, right now was a perfect time for someone or something with ill-intent to make a strike against them.

After worrying and working himself up the whole way down the stairs, Derek had fully expected to open the doors to see some horrific demon.

Instead, there were two humans, a man and a woman, standing in the lobby with suitcases. They were older, maybe in their sixties or seventies. The man was about six feet tall, broad-shouldered with thinning hair and overgrown eyebrows. The woman was stout, at least a foot shorter than the man. She had chin-length hair, carefully curled, and a pair of purple cat-eye glasses. They both wore long down coats, too heavy for a California winter.

“Can I help you?” Derek asked.

The woman stepped forward, speaking a mile a minute. “Do you live here? Our son lives on the second floor, but I’m afraid he’s probably out working right now. We can’t get ahold of him.”

“I own the building.”

Her face lit up. “Oh!” She clapped her hands together. “Oh, you must be Derek!” She looked back to, presumably, her husband. “Oh, Gene, it’s Derek!”

Gene had a very level sort of demeanor about him and just nodded mildly. “I heard,” he agreed.

“Jordan has told us so much about you!”

Derek’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Uh, Mr. and Mrs. Parrish, then?” he supposed. “Jordan didn’t mention you were going to be here for the holidays.”

Jordan’s mother gave him a conspiratorial look, lifting her hand to the side of her mouth in a mimic of secrecy. “We’re surprising him,” she confided.

“I told you we should have called,” Gene grumbled.

“We were hoping you’d both be able to come out to Iowa for the holidays this year,” Mrs. Parrish went on. “We’ve been pestering him to introduce you to us, but he’s been so shy about it.” Her eyes went wide, and she held out a placating hand. “Oh! Not because you’re a man, dear. Jordan has always been very private with his relationships.”

Later, Derek would congratulate himself on being able to choke on his own tongue nearly silently. “Has he?” he croaked.

“Madge, would you quit pestering the boy?” Gene griped. “We’re not even in the damn door.”

“I’m being friendly!”

“Friendly! You haven’t even introduced us.” Gene stepped toward Derek and held out a hand. “You can call me Gene. This is Madge.”

Derek shook his hand, still feeling thoroughly off-balance.

“Sorry, I know you weren’t prepared to meet the parents today,” he said. “We were going to wait at the hotel until he got off work, but they say our room won’t be ready for another few hours. Any chance you could let us into Jordan’s place to wait?”

 _What the fuck_.

There was still a chance that these were demons, Derek reminded himself, though he realized that may have been wishful thinking. Demons would be a thousand times easier to deal with than a couple of senior citizens from Iowa who seemed to think he was dating their son.

It might have been safer to just invite them up to the penthouse to wait where he could keep an eye on them, but Derek remembered the disassembled crossbow sitting on his dining room table and decided against it.

Feeling more than a little flustered, Derek glanced back at the stairwell door, then said, “Um, is it – I’m just gonna call the station – I want to make sure he’s okay with it.” Because he didn’t _know_ these people. Hell, he didn’t really know how Jordan’s relationship with his parents was, beyond vague mentions of his trips back to Iowa and his failed attempts to re-create his mom’s recipes. All of them seemed to involve horrendous amounts of mayonnaise.

“Of course,” Madge agreed. “We’ll just wait right here.”

Derek jerked a thumb toward the stairs. “Left my phone – I’ll be right back.”

He actually hadn’t left his phone anywhere, but like hell was he going to make this call in front of them. He tried Jordan’s cell first, but like the Parrishes had said, he wasn’t picking up. In the end, he had the receptionist at the station radio him. A few minutes later, his phone started to buzz.

“Oh my god,” Jordan said immediately.

“Hey,” Derek replied.

“Oh my god, I am _so_ sorry. I just saw the texts they sent me. I had no idea they were coming. I can’t believe they just – ”

Derek leaned against the wall of the stairwell. “They said they were surprising you. I’m just checking if it’s okay to let them into your apartment.”

“Yes!” Jordan answered quickly. “Absolutely. Yeah, thanks. Go ahead. Hey, um, did they happen to say anything… anything about...”

“About how they think we’re dating?” Derek supplied flatly.

There was a long, awkward pause. When Jordan spoke again, Derek could hear the cringe in his voice. “There’s a really good explanation for that,” he insisted.

Derek hummed dubiously. Of all of his packmates, Jordan had always been the least likely to start absurd shenanigans. Maybe he’d been saving his shenanigans points up for a special occasion. Like Christmas.

A noise on the other end cut Jordan off before he could finish his next word, and the one after that was, “Shit. I have to go, but I promise I’ll explain when I get home. Just… could you play along?”

Sighing, Derek shook his head in disbelief. The things he put up with around here. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

When he headed back down the stairs, Derek stopped short just inside the stairwell door as he heard hushed voices on the other side.

“This is what I was telling you, Madgey. It’s not just Jordan we’re springing this on.”

“Well, how in the heck else was he ever gonna introduce us? It’s like pulling teeth just getting him to talk about Derek over the phone.”

“Yes, and now you get your introduction, but don’t you be surprised when Jordie’s mad at you.”

Jordie. If nothing else came out of this insane situation, at least Derek would have _Jordie_ to hang over Jordan’s head for the rest of time. He knew exactly the shade of pink his ears were going to go when he heard Derek say it, too.

He pushed the door open and flashed Mr. and Mrs. Parrish what he hoped was a disarming smile. “Jordan says you’re _not_ burglars impersonating his parents. Come on upstairs.” He stepped forward and took two of the suitcases against their protestations, then led them to Jordan’s apartment. As he unlocked the door for them, Derek said, “I’d offer to stick around, but I have a lot of work left today.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Gene insisted. “We don’t want to impose. What do you do for a living, Derek?”

“That’s a, uh, complicated question,” Derek laughed. Aside from his duties as a landlord, his main job was acting as Scott’s right hand, helping to manage the pack while Scott held down a full-time job at the clinic. “I’m doing repairs around the building today. I get a lot of ‘honey do’ lists when the tenants go out of town for the holidays.”

Jordan’s was definitely the most normal apartment in the building. No spell books. No chains or manacles. No weapons aside from the lock box for his service weapon. It was pretty much the only place in this whole building that would be safe to leave these two unsupervised. Derek opened the door to reveal a cozy space, clean with very little clutter. What little decor Jordan did have was all sentimental items: framed pictures, handmade gifts, sports memorabilia. The door opened onto a tiled landing, level with the kitchen area, off to the left. To the right, the space dropped a step to hardwood floors in the living room area. An overstuffed couch and a recliner were angled toward the TV. A treadmill and some weights were tucked into a corner.

Madge set her purse down on the couch. “It sounds like you must be very handy,” she said.

“I try to be,” Derek agreed. He set the two suitcases he’d carried just inside the door, but didn’t move to step in further. “I’ll be jumping around between apartments, but, um… here, I’ll give you my number. You can text me if you need anything.”

They exchanged numbers, and Derek headed back for Lydia’s. He waited until the door was closed behind him before he curled forward and started laughing. _What the fuck_?

* * *

  
  


_Change of plans on dinner_ , the text said. _Picking up Thai for me and my parents. They’re hoping you’ll join us._

Derek’s first thought was that there was no way he would be able to fake his way through a whole meal with these people, having no idea what he was even faking about. His phone buzzed again.

_I’d stop by first to explain._

He traced his thumb along the edge of his screen, fighting down his nerves. He typed out, _I’ll take the curry you got last time._

As promised, Jordan knocked on his door about forty minutes after his shift. Derek had Lydia’s fridge compressor spread out on a drop cloth on his living room floor. “Come in!” he called.

Jordan didn’t have the food in his hands, but he smelled like it, so he had probably dropped it off at his apartment before heading up to Derek’s. “Please don’t be mad,” he said immediately, and Derek had to laugh. It was something one of the betas would say, or maybe Stiles or Kira. Jordan was the kind of person people said that _to_.

“I’m really excited to hear this explanation,” Derek assured him. He wiped his greasy hands off on a rag.

Jordan closed the door and started to pace across the living room. He was still in uniform, hadn’t even taken his coat off. “It’s – you have to know what my mom is like to understand. She’s great! She’s really sweet, but she’s… she’s _pushy_ , and she worries and she just…” Jordan was talking with his hands, fingers curled like he was strangling a small animal. “…she gets her mind set on something and she goes at it _relentlessly_ and she just nags and nags and – ”

“And she was going at you being single?” Derek supposed. He hadn’t seen Jordan this worked up in ages, and never about anything as normal and domestic as a nagging mother. It made Derek a little wistful, maybe a little jealous, thinking about how his mother would probably be nagging him about the same thing if she were still around.

“Yeah!” Jordan agreed, raking a hand through his hair. “She just wouldn’t drop it. And she kept talking about how if I moved back home, ‘so and so has a niece that’s single’ or ‘my friend’s daughter lives in San Francisco, maybe we could set you up.’ And it was always _women_.”

Derek frowned at that. They didn’t talk about Jordan’s sexuality much. He had dated a little bit, here and there, but it was tricky to bring strangers in without them finding out what their pack was. Normally, he dated women, but there had been a couple of guys, never for long. “You weren’t out to them?” he asked.

Jordan stopped pacing and shoved his hands in his pockets. He sighed and looked at the floor. “It just… never really came up,” he admitted. “It’s not that I thought they’d mind, but I wasn’t seeing anyone, and I just kept telling myself that I’d tell them if it came up. If I was seeing a guy.”

From there, Derek could pretty much do the math. Jordan had wanted to get his mom off his back about being single and he’d wanted an excuse to come out. Inventing a boyfriend was an easy fix for both. Which left one question: “Why me?”

Rubbing at his earlobe, Jordan said, “You were the first person that popped into my head.”

Derek found himself grateful that Jordan didn’t have enhanced hearing, because his heart did a funny little skip at that. It wasn’t that he had never thought about Jordan that way. He was gorgeous, brave, and just about the kindest person Derek had ever met. He was also pack and one of Derek’s closest friends. He was also way, _way_ too good for Derek.

Apparently, in the time it took Derek to process that bit of information, Jordan had managed to take his silence the wrong way. “Sorry,” he said, speaking quickly. “This is completely crazy. I’m so sorry. It’s not fair for me to ask you to – Jesus, I don’t know what I was thinking. You don’t have to do this. I’ll just...” He cringed, obviously going through everything that telling his parents the truth would entail.

“It’s fine,” Derek assured him. “I get it. Family is…” He thought about the complicated remains of his own family. If he had a dime for every time Peter, Malia, or Cora had gotten into a screaming match, it could maybe pay for all of the drywall patches he’d had to do because of them.

“Complicated,” Jordan supplied.

“Yeah.” With a soft smile, Derek gestured toward the stairs of the loft. “I’m gonna change into something a little more meet-the-parents friendly. Why don’t you give me the rundown on what you’ve told them so I don’t blow our story?”

Jordan’s eyes went wide. He looked up at the loft, then back down at Derek. His ears went pink. “Oh. You want me to…?”

It took Derek a moment to realize what he was panicking about. He laughed. “You can stay down here and talk,” he reminded Jordan. “I’ll be able to hear you fine.”

“Right!” Jordan said, a little too loud. “I’ll just… yeah.”

The whole time he was changing, Derek could hear Jordan pacing around on the main floor while he talked. It didn’t seem like he’d told his parents too much. They knew one another before Derek became his landlord, but they didn’t start seeing one another until about six months ago. They thought the pack’s last trip to meet with the Calaveras had been him and Derek going on vacation to Mexico together. Other than that, he had pretty much stuck to their real biographies, minus all of the supernatural shenanigans.

Derek stood in front of his closet in a thin tank top, trying to decide on a sweater that said ‘good boyfriend material.’ He grabbed two options and walked to the railing of the loft. “So how did we end up getting together, then?” he asked.

Jordan turned to look up at him and froze up. “Um. Uh, I…” He cleared his throat. “I guess I didn’t really give them a particular story.”

“But if they ask, what should we say?” Derek pressed. “Did I ask you out? Other way?”

“Um, I...” Jordan fumbled, trailing off. His ears went red, then his cheeks. “I’m really bad at this,” he admitted with a laugh.

Derek felt a surge of affection and ducked his head. He thought about the dinners they had together all the time. Sometimes they got takeout. Sometimes one of them cooked and brought over enough to share. If there was a good game on, they would head to the sports bar down the street. It would be easy to re-imagine those dinners as dates. “How about… we were going out, having dinner together as friends,” he proposed, “and then one day, I just turned to you and said, ‘Is this a date?’”

Jordan bit his lip, staring up at Derek. “And I said, ‘Do you want it to be a date?’”

“And of course I said yes.”

“I like that,” Jordan told him, voice soft. He rubbed at his earlobe.

The moment seemed strung too tight, so Derek hung the sweaters in his hands over the railing. “Which one?” he asked.

Jordan cleared his throat. “Um, the green one, I think. The green one’s nice.”

* * *

When they got to Jordan’s apartment, Madge was setting out plates and unpacking the food while Gene got drinks from the kitchen. “Oh, Derek!” he called. “What can I get you? Beer?”

“All I have are IPAs,” Jordan warned.

“Water’s fine with me,” Derek said.

“Jordan, did you get the curry?” Madge asked. She was lifting her glasses out of the way to squint at the writing on the containers.

“No, that one’s Derek’s,” Jordan told her.

“Well, the other one is beef pad see ew,” his mother said, holding out the container for him to see. She looked over at Derek and explained, “Jordan hasn’t eaten beef since he was a little boy.”

“I know,” Derek assured her with a hint of amusement.

“It’s fine, Mom. And I have eaten beef since then.” He reached for the box. “I’ll eat it.”

At first, Jordan had just said he didn’t like it, but he’d admitted the full story to Derek over drinks a couple of years ago. When he was a kid, Jordan had befriended a neighbor’s cow, Daisy. When he was seven, that neighbor gave his family a few packages of beef. It wasn’t until he’d already eaten one of the steaks that Jordan found out that he was eating his friend. Nightmares of Daisy had plagued him for weeks, and ever since then…

“Sure,” Derek agreed, snatching the box away and lifting it out of Jordan’s reach. “But every time you eat it, you get nightmares.” He smirked. “I’ll eat it. You take the curry.”

When he looked back at Madge, she was staring at him in a startling, unbridled delight.

* * *

  
  


After dinner, Jordan’s parents headed for their hotel for the night with promises of a Christmas shopping trip in the morning. Derek stuck around to help clean up the leftovers.

“I think that went pretty well,” he offered, glancing over to see Jordan with his sleeves rolled up, forearms submerged in soapy water while he scrubbed the dishes.

Jordan smiled and bit his lip. “I hadn’t really considered how much they would like you,” he said. “It’s gonna be a nightmare telling them that we broke up.”

Derek snapped the lids on the tupperware. “What, you weren’t planning to just keep stringing the lie along until we got married?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Jordan laughed. Then, when Derek lifted an eyebrow at him, he cleared his throat and added, “I’ll do anything to keep my mom off my back.”

The words landed harder than Derek expected them to.

“Anyway,” Derek said, “I’ll fill Peter and Cora in on the situation. Peter always cooks, so he’ll be around, and Cora might bring Aiden for dinner.”

“You think they’ll play along?” Jordan turned off the water and dried his hands, looking wary.

Derek snorted. “You kidding? Lying is Peter’s all-time favorite hobby, and Cora will think it’s hilarious. They’re going to have a field day.” He put the leftovers in the fridge, and when he turned back around, Jordan was much closer than he’d expected him to be.

“I want to say thanks again,” Jordan said, voice soft. His sleeves were still rolled up, the first few buttons on his shirt undone and collar pushed back. “I know this is a completely nutty situation. It means a lot that you’d drop everything and go along with it.”

Yet again, Derek found himself grateful that Jordan couldn’t hear his jittery pulse. “Hey,” he answered, not sure why he was speaking so quietly except that the moment felt very small, very fragile. “What are friends for?”

The soft expression on Jordan’s face seemed to crumble at once. An instant later, a friendly smile had taken its place. “Right. Well.”

Derek didn’t stick around after that. He could have kicked himself, but instead he kicked the wall of the elevator on his way up to the loft. _What are friends for_? He slumped against the wall with a groan. “I’m an idiot,” he lamented aloud.

“Not that I disagree...” The elevator doors slid open to reveal Peter, standing at the loft windows with a drink in hand. “...but can I ask why?”

“No.” Derek shot him a glare as he stepped inside. “I’m actually glad you’re here, though. I need to talk to you about Christmas.”

“You can’t cancel on me,” Peter snapped. “The turkey is already defrosting.”

Derek rolled his eyes and dropped onto the couch with a sigh. It wasn’t a particularly cozy piece of furniture, stiff-backed leather with hard angles. Cora said it matched his personality. “I’m not canceling. We’re going to have two extra guests, though. Jordan’s parents are in town.”

Peter shrugged a shoulder. “Fine. You know I always make too much anyway.”

“There’s a catch, though.” Derek braced himself for Peter’s teasing. “Jordan sort of got caught in a lie to get his mom to stop pestering him, and now they think me and him are a couple.”

Narrowed eyes pinned him down for a long moment, Peter’s mouth drawn into a tight line. Finally, he said, “Alright.”

“Alright?”

“That’s what I said.”

“That’s all you have to say about it?” Derek was expecting hysterical laughter. Torment. Not ‘ _Alright_.’

Peter rolled his eyes. “Your personal life really is of no interest to me, Derek.”

Derek didn’t even need to listen for a pulse to know that was a lie. Peter was a decent printer away from launching a trashy pack gossip zine. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m being perfectly normal,” Peter insisted. “Anyway, I’ll let Cora and Aiden know.” He headed for the elevator, drink still in hand.

“You’re being helpful,” Derek accused.

“And making us all a lovely Christmas dinner. You’re welcome.” Peter gave a sardonic bow as he stepped into the elevator.

It didn’t occur to him until after Peter had left to wonder why he had been in the loft in the first place. Derek sighed. His uncle was _definitely_ up to something.


	2. An Unfortunate Mix-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mix-up at his parents' hotel means that Jordan will have to stay at Derek's while they sleep in his room. Meanwhile, Peter and Cora are still very obviously Up To Something.

Derek wanted to say that Peter’s hovering while he worked the next morning was _also_ suspicious, but seeing as he was doing work in Peter’s apartment, he supposed that might be a bit on the paranoid side.

“Flip the breaker,” he called from his place on the floor.

“Done.”

Derek frowned at the meter. No dice. “Turn it back off.” He waited until he could hear the hum of electricity die down, then pulled the outlet box out of the wall again. “Damn it. You’re sure it worked before?”

“I had a lamp plugged in there when I first moved in,” Peter said, stepping back into the living room with a mug of tea in one hand. He was more dressed than Derek had expected him at this time of morning – jeans and a sweater. It would have been more on-brand for him to stand around in his robe while Derek worked and prayed to the powers that be that it didn’t slip open.

Peter paused, tipping his head to the side just as Derek heard faint voices from the direction of the stairwell. “The Parrishes are back from their shopping trip,” he observed. He gave Derek a pleasant smile that deeply unnerved him. “You should go play your little role. Come back to this later.”

Narrowing his eyes, Derek slid the outlet back into the wall. “I’ll figure out what you’re up to,” he promised, “and then I’ll probably punch you in the face for it.”

Peter sipped his tea. “I don’t think that’s true.”

So Derek went downstairs. Gene and Jordan were carrying shopping bags up the stairs while Madge stood in the hallway, frowning with a phone pressed to her ear. From the other end of the conversation, Derek could hear, _“...terribly sorry, ma’am. We don’t know what happened. If you’d like, I’m happy to call around to other hotels to see if we can find another room for you.”_

Jordan set his bags inside his apartment, then stepped into the hall. “Hey, how’re repairs going?”

“Fine,” Derek agreed, distracted. He nodded toward Madge. “What’s going on?”

“They’re having an issue with the hotel,” Jordan explained. “Apparently their reservation only got marked down for one night, and they’re booked out through the holidays.”

Peter. Derek had no idea how or why, but this reeked of Peter. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered, turning and heading back in the direction of the stairs. He was a few feet short of the door when it opened. Peter stepped through into the hall.

“I figured I’d come introduce myself.”

“What did you do?” Derek growled.

Looking vaguely annoyed, Peter waved dismissively at him and tutted, “Don’t be rude.” He brushed past Derek, hand already outstretched toward Jordan’s dad. “You must be Gene. I’m Derek’s uncle, Peter. It’s so nice to finally meet Jordan’s family.”

Standing with his back to his parents, Jordan gave Derek a startled, wide-eyed look.

Derek bit his lip.

Gene introduced himself. “And that’s Madge. Sorry, we’re having some issues with our hotel. Looks like they gave our room away from under us. And everything is booked up this time of year.”

“Well, why don’t you just stay here at Jordan’s?” Peter suggested. He turned and glanced back at Derek and Jordan with a wicked smile. “Jordan can stay at Derek’s.”

Madge looked over at her son, obviously hopeful at the prospect. “Oh, we don’t want to put you out, honey,” she insisted, but there was a request in her tone.

Jordan looked from his mom to Derek, awkward and obviously trying not to panic. “Oh, um, that’s – ”

“A good idea,” Derek said quickly, figuring it was up to him to save their story. Jordan would never just assume, and it would be weird if they had been dating this long and weren’t comfortable with staying overnight. “Jordan’s at my place half the time anyway.”

Shooting Derek a grateful smile, Jordan agreed, “Yeah, it’s no problem. Why don’t you two go get your bags from the hotel and I’ll get the place tidied up a bit?” He patted his pockets, then frowned. “Shoot, I only have the squad car...”

“I’ll drive you,” Peter offered, far too chipper.

Derek and Jordan simultaneously whipped their heads around to stare at Peter. This couldn’t possibly be a good thing. There was also no way to call him out on it without risking opening a whole complicated can of worms in front of Jordan’s parents.

“Thanks, Peter,” Jordan said stiffly. “I appreciate it.”

They stood in the hallway until Peter, Madge, and Gene had all disappeared back into the stairwell.

Jordan turned to look at Derek. “Okay, what the hell?”

“I don’t know,” Derek admitted, “but I don’t like it.”

“Is he going to murder my parents or something?”

With a pained expression, Derek sighed. “I don’t think so. Whatever he’s up to, it’s definitely of the ‘let’s screw with Derek’ variety.” He nodded toward Jordan’s door. “I’ll help you get the place ready. Where’s your truck anyway?”

Jordan followed him in and started carrying the shopping bags over to the couch. “Cora borrowed it. She was picking something up that wouldn’t fit in her car.”

Derek frowned. That wasn’t such an unusual circumstance, but if Peter was scheming, Cora was generally on the suspect list with him.

“Anyway, I just need to change the sheets and pack up a few things,” Jordan said. He took his coat off and draped it over the back of the armchair. “They’ll expect me to have things left at your place, right?”

“Maybe just a few things. It’s not like you can’t walk back downstairs to your place whenever you want,” Derek pointed out. Then, completely without his conscious agreement, his stupid mouth kept moving and said, “We practically live together already.”

Jordan’s eyebrows shot up. His mouth hung open for a few seconds before he replied. “Uh, yeah. I guess it would be kind of weird if we were actually dating, huh?” He rubbed at his earlobe.

Ouch. Derek should have just agreed and left it at that, but apparently his mouth still had a mind of its own. “I don’t think so,” he said. “The rest of the pack does it.” God, what was the matter with him? Derek cleared his throat and walked past Jordan toward the bedroom. “Clean sheets?”

“Right. Uh, hall closet,” Jordan advised.

While Derek went to the bedroom to take care of that task, he could hear Jordan in the bathroom, pulling items from the medicine cabinet. He hadn’t spent much time in Jordan’s room. They always hung out on the couch in the living room. His smell was so concentrated on his bed, in the sheets. God, it smelled like he’d jerked off in here. Recently.

Derek tried to shake that thought from his mind, though it did give him a good reminder. “You need to clear anything incriminating out of here?” he called in the direction of the bathroom. “Bedside table?”

Jordan stepped into the room, face flushed. “Shit. Yeah, good call. I’ll just, um – ” He gestured at the nightstand, and Derek stepped out of his way, averting his gaze. “Not that I think they’d go snooping,” he continued, “or say anything at all if they found it on accident. Trust me, _no one_ does quiet awkwardness like an Iowan.”

Draping the top sheet over the bed, Derek snorted. “You don’t say.”

He could feel Jordan glaring at him, but when he looked over his shoulder, the intensity was somewhat undercut by the box of condoms clutched against Jordan’s chest. He startled and fumbled the box, almost dropping it, ears bright red. Derek turned his attention back to the bed.

“Case in point,” he mumbled.

* * *

  
  


Jordan was working swing shift that evening, so he was getting some quality time with his parents during the day while Derek kept out of the way, working on the building. He had been half worried that Peter would try to insert himself into their family time. Instead, he seemed content to hover over Derek some more.

“What did you get him for Christmas?” Peter asked.

“Who? Jordan?” Derek was bent over Jackson and Danny’s dishwasher, cleaning out the trap. “I got him a limited release stout from a brewery he likes.”

“That’s it?” Peter made an impatient noise with his tongue. “You’re entirely useless, you know that?”

Derek pulled the trap out and dumped it into the trash can next to him. “That’s what they tell me.”

“You can’t just get him a bottle of beer.”

Sitting back on his heels, Derek held his hands out in an incredulous gesture. “It’s really nice beer.”

Peter folded his arms over his chest, leaning against the counter. “You’re supposed to be in a long-term relationship with the man. How’s it going to look if that’s all you give him?”

“Maybe like he’s getting the rest of his present later.” Derek flashed a cheeky little smirk.

Heaving a sigh, Peter reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. “Lucky for you, _I_ anticipated your romantic ineptitude – ”

“What, like you’re so – ?”

Peter spoke louder to talk over him. “And I have your _real_ gift right here.” He held out two thin strips of paper. Tickets.

Derek wiped his hands off on his jeans, then took the tickets to inspect them. Baseball. Spring training in San Francisco, Giants versus the Kansas City Royals. Derek’s favorite team against Jordan’s. “I’m getting him an argument for Christmas?” Derek asked.

Rolling his eyes, Peter snatched the tickets back. “It’ll be a hit. I’m going to wrap these and put them in your desk drawer. Now what do you say?”

“Why are you being nice?”

“Starts with a ‘TH,’ Derek,” Peter advised, then began an exaggerated play at sounding the words out. “ _Thhhh_ … _Thaaannn...”_

Derek glared. “Thank you,” he gritted out. “Now tell me what you’re up to.”

Peter took two steps toward him, ruffled his hair, then left.

* * *

  
  


He’d heard Cora come into the building sometime just after noon, but he didn’t manage to catch her in the hallway until around two, on his way out of Malia’s apartment. She was stepping out of the stairwell, hair twisted into a bun on top of her head and smelling faintly of sweat. Maybe from heavy lifting for whatever she’d borrowed Jordan’s truck for.

“Oh, hey,” she called. “Jordan said to send you in his direction.”

“You were talking to Jordan,” Derek said, and he really did mean to say it like a question. It just didn’t happen for him sometimes.

Cora walked down the hall to meet him at Cora’s door. “Yep. Meeting his parents and all that. Don’t worry, Peter filled me in on the whole thing.”

Brow furrowing, Derek asked, “What is Peter up to?”

Her eyes went suddenly wide and round an innocent. Sneaky brat. “Why would you assume that _I_ know what he’s up to?”

Derek folded his arms over his chest. “Because you’re his favorite, and he always recruits you.”

She waved him off. “Anyway, why do you think he’s up to something at all?”

“He’s being nice.”

“It _is_ the holidays, Derek.”

Derek lifted an eyebrow at her, unimpressed. “Peter’s favorite holiday is the day after the Emmys when the ‘Worst Dressed’ list comes out.”

Cora shrugged a shoulder. “People take risks that they wouldn’t take for the Oscars.”

“ _Cora.”_

“You’re always way too suspicious of him. When’s the last time he did anything evil?”

The other eyebrow lifted. “Halloween.”

She rolled her eyes. “He wouldn’t _actually_ have let the veil between worlds close with Chris on the other side.”

“August, then.”

“What, so now bartering with leprechauns is a capital offense?”

“May Day,” he snapped.

Cora snorted. “Come on, even you have to admit that was hilarious.”

Derek sighed. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with her. “So what does Jordan want?”

She grinned at him. “Isn’t that the million dollar question?”

* * *

  
  


Jordan’s dining table, which had comfortably seated four the night before, felt far too crowded with five, but that might have been because the fifth was Peter. Evil took up a lot of space. And talked a lot.

“So then we’ll have just your basic arugula and pomegranate winter salad,” he explained, Madge hanging on his every word. “Oh, how do you feel about Brussels sprouts? That was plan A, but I know people are hit or miss on those.”

“Gene has never been fond of them, but Jordan and I will love them, I’m sure,” she assured him.

Peter waved her assurances off with his fork. He was eating pizza with a fork. If the murder spree wasn’t proof that his uncle was evil, Derek thought, this was. “Nonsense,” Peter said. “I’d rather make something everyone will like. Besides, I’m very good with a zucchini.”

Derek choked on his beer.

Jordan kicked him under the table.

“Well, we can’t let you make everything,” Gene insisted.

“He’s a control freak. He enjoys this,” Derek advised dryly.

Peter glared at him. “Well, Derek and Cora always make eggnog a few weeks in advance. And, Madge, if you felt so inclined to make some of those cookies you sent Jordan last year.”

Madge beamed at him, then at Jordan. “Oh, did you share those, sweetie?”

“Yeah, they were a big hit,” Jordan agreed.

With a positively reptilian smile, Peter added, “Of course, that was back when these two were just making sad eyes at each other from across the room.”

Derek glared, then startled at the feeling of a hand on the back of his neck. He looked over and saw Jordan with an amused expression on his face. He kept his hand where it was and gave a reassuring squeeze.

Then Jordan glanced at his phone and muttered, “Ah, jeez.” He ate the last bite of his pizza, then wiped his hands on his paper towel. “I need to head to work,” he told them. “I’ll be in late, so I’ll see you both in the morning.” He gestured to his parents. “Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.”

He stood up, set a hand on Derek’s shoulder, then leaned down.

And kissed him.

It was just a quick peck on the lips. Barely anything. But it caught Derek by surprise and sent his pulse hammering in his chest. It was a miracle that he managed not to just gape up at Jordan in shock, remembering at the last second that such a small gesture should be _normal_ for them.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Jordan said.

Derek’s voice came out too quiet as he replied, “Be safe.”

Once Jordan left, Derek’s attention was dragged back to the table as Madge said, “You must worry like crazy.” She shook her head. “I know I do, knowing he’s out there running into who-knows-what. And I know it’s a small town. It’s probably safe as can be here.”

Oh, if she only knew, Derek thought.

“But still. I worry.”

Not trusting his own voice, he just hummed and nodded.

He and Peter helped to clean up the food, then left not long after. Derek glanced at his phone in the elevator and saw texts from Jordan:

_Sorry to spring that on you  
My mom got into this whole thing today about us being comfortable in front of them  
And how I hadn’t even held your hand in front of them since they got here_

Derek hated how the warm feeling in his chest crumbled upon reading that. Of course, it made sense. If they were going to pretend to be a couple, a little bit of affection would be required. He could still feel the echo of Jordan’s lips against his own. It had been so brief, and he’d been too surprised to enjoy it properly when it happened.

Not that he was supposed to be enjoying it.

Fuck.

The elevator doors opened in the loft. Derek walked to the couch, collapsed face-down onto it. He had eight hours until Jordan came back here to sleep in the same bed as him. Derek figured he could fit a pretty good mental breakdown in before then.

* * *

  
  


A touch traced over the side of Derek’s neck, just below his jaw. His head felt heavy, neck stiff, brain hazy and still half in a dream about… about something… The moment his eyes blinked open, the memory of it slipped away from him.

The loft was dimly lit, only the small reading light next to the couch on. Jordan was crouched in front of him, face close. Smiling. God, he always gave Derek the most achingly beautiful smiles.

“I would have let you keep sleeping, but I’m honestly not sure how you fell asleep like this in the first place,” Jordan told him.

Derek took stock of himself and realized that he’d slumped over sideways against the hard, uncomfortable arm of his hard, uncomfortable couch, neck flopped over at almost a ninety degree angle, torso folded sideways with his bent left arm pinned under his body weight. His book had fallen onto the floor. He groaned and yawned as he slowly sat up. “Fuck, my neck hurts,” he mumbled. “What time is it?”

“Twelve thirty.” Jordan was still in uniform, obviously fresh off his shift. He stood up. “Come on, you go to bed. I’ll steal a pillow and blanket for out here.”

Blinking up at him in confusion, it took Derek a moment to sort out what he meant. “You’re not sleeping on this thing,” he said, incredulous.

Then it was Jordan’s turn to look confused. “What? Why?”

“Because I don’t hate you.” Derek snorted and stood up, twisting his neck to try to crack it. He yawned again. “Come on, it’s a king bed. I promise not to steal the covers.”

As they climbed the stairs to the loft, Derek quietly congratulated himself on how calmly he was acting about all of this. He’d spent three hours panic-exercising, another two panic-cooking and panic-eating. He had thoroughly dealt with this eventuality, and now he was prepared for it. Or maybe he was just too sleep-fuzzed to be anxious.

Derek flipped on the light, then picked up the bag of Jordan’s clothes that he’d left on his bed and passed it over. He headed to his dresser.

“You sure you don’t mind?” Jordan asked, hesitant.

When Derek turned, he saw Jordan standing with the bag clutched against his chest, looking…

Uncomfortable.

Fuck. Derek had planned for the agonizing possibility of sharing a bed with Jordan. He hadn’t even considered the completely devastating possibility that Jordan wouldn’t want to share a bed with _him._

“Um, I mean – I didn’t mean to – ” he said, stumbling over his words. “If you feel too – if you’re more comfortable on the couch...”

“No!” Jordan cut in. “No, I’m fine. I just don’t want to, you know, take over your bed. On top of everything else.”

Relief swept through him. Derek smiled and turned back to his dresser. “I wouldn’t offer if I minded.” He hesitated for just a second before tugging his shirt off and tossing it toward his laundry pile.

Behind him, Derek heard an audible swallow. Jordan’s pulse sped up noticeably, and he smelled like… Derek inhaled, nostrils flaring.

“Don’t do that,” Jordan scolded.

“Do what?”

Derek looked at him again, and saw that Jordan had his bag on the ground. He crouched to rifle through it without looking up at Derek. “Don’t _smell me_ ,” Jordan snapped.

“I wasn’t – ”

Jordan looked up then, eyebrows lifted and lips pursed as if daring Derek to continue his lie.

Derek ducked his head. “Fine, I won’t.” He turned his back again and shoved down his jeans. Again, Jordan’s pulse picked up. This time, Derek couldn’t help but grin because he could _feel_ Jordan staring at him. He looked over his shoulder again. “Jordan, are you…?”

Jordan was kneeling next to his unzipped duffle bag. His face was flushed red to his ears. He rubbed at an earlobe. “I’ll, um… I’m gonna go to the couch,” he mumbled.

“Wait, don’t,” Derek sighed, turning toward him.

Eyes snapping shut, Jordan laughed, “Oh my god, _don’t_ turn around.”

Glancing down at his state of undress, then back up at Jordan, Derek tried his best to feel appropriate sympathy for his friend, somewhere under the bubbling layers of hope that _Jordan was into him_. “You’ve seen me naked before,” Derek reminded him.

Instead of opening his eyes, Jordan rubbed his hands over his face. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” he lamented.

“Jordan, it’s _okay,_ ” Derek assured him. There was so much space between them, and he didn’t know how or if he should close it while Jordan was still looking like he wanted a meteor to strike him dead. Figuring a little mercy was in order, he settled on backing off. “I’m gonna brush my teeth and let you change, alright?”

Jordan’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Thanks.”

When Derek stepped out of the bathroom, Jordan was in a pair of pajama pants and an undershirt. He flushed again when he saw Derek. For a moment too long, they both just stood there at the doorway, both of them blocking the other’s path.

“How about I go put some pajamas on?” Derek offered.

Clearing his throat, Jordan nodded. “Good idea.”

God, how did people _do_ this? Once you both realized you were into one another, wasn’t that when you shared a cinematic movie kiss and then rode off into a sunset or something? Or maybe had sex?

Derek tugged on a pair of sleep pants and, as an afterthought, an old t-shirt. Beacon Hills Basketball. He got under the blankets and lay still, listening to the sounds of Jordan brushing his teeth. Then there was a long period of silence where he imagined Jordan was just standing there in the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror and freaking out.

This really shouldn’t be so difficult, right?

Maybe it was that Jordan was attracted to him but didn’t want a relationship. They were friends. Probably best friends. Derek had always refrained from trying to take it further because of that – because he cared about the friendship more than he cared about the possibility of a relationship. Knowing the feelings were mutual put him squarely in favor of trying for more, but maybe that wasn’t enough for Jordan. Maybe the possibility of them breaking up and ruining the friendship was still too big a risk.

The sound of a throat clearing drew his attention to the bathroom door. “Right side, huh?”

“What?”

Jordan gestured toward him. “You sleep on the right side of the bed.”

“Oh,” Derek said. “Uh, yeah. I can – if you prefer – ”

“No, I wasn’t – I was only – fuck.” Jordan laughed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m just gonna shut up and get in. How about that?”

“Okay.”

Jordan slipped between the blankets on the other side. Derek turned off the lamp. They both lay completely still, hearts both beating way too quickly. It sounded like Jordan was trying to hold his breath to keep from breathing too heavily.

The tension was going to drive him insane. Derek desperately tried to come up with something to say. For some god-awful reason, the words his brain supplied him with were, “Should we talk about what we’ll do if we wake up cuddling?”

A miserable moan came from the other side of the bed. “Oh my god.”

Derek burst out laughing. This was all so stupid and ridiculous. They were grown adults. They were interested in one another. This was _so stupid_. “The way I see it,” he continued on, leaning into the teasing for all he was worth, “we have a couple of options. Either we pretend it didn’t happen...” Maybe if he embarrassed Jordan enough, he would loop back around to not-embarrassed. “...or we have sex.”

A pillow landed square in Derek’s face. “I hate you,” Jordan said, but there was a hint of laughter under his tone. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not!” Derek swatted the pillow away.

The pillow landed again. “Liar.”

Derek snatched the pillow away this time, hugging it against his chest. “Okay, but you’re being _very_ Iowan right now,” he pointed out.

“What’s that mean?”

Rolling onto his side to face Jordan, Derek let his eyes shine to see him better in the dark. “Quietly awkward,” he explained.

Jordan rolled to face him as well. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he murmured, “Look, I’m sorry I made it awkward. Just… don’t make fun of how I feel, okay?” There was a current of vulnerability in his voice that Derek hadn’t expected. Hurt.

“No, I’m sorry,” Derek insisted. “I was only making fun of the awkwardness. I promise. Why would I – I mean, it’s not like I have room to talk, right?”

After another moment of silence, Jordan said, “Can I have my pillow back?”

“Are you going to hit me again?”

“Only if you get fresh.”

Derek snorted and passed it back. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Derek.”


	3. Better Than Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Jordan struggle with how to move forward. Peter and Cora's scheming comes to fruition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Jordan Parrish Appreciation Week, Day 7 "Holiday Hijinks."

When they woke up, they were on their sides, facing one another. One of Jordan’s feet had tucked itself between Derek’s calves, and one of his hands was splayed over Derek’s forearm. At first, Derek wasn’t sure what had woken him up, but as the haze of sleep started to slowly loose its grasp, he heard the too-fast beating of Jordan’s heart as he stared silently at Derek. That was probably it.

Jordan’s voice came out sleep-rough. “We never decided what we were going to do about this,” he pointed out.

Derek didn’t think. He just leaned across the small gap between them and pressed his lips to Jordan’s. A small noise of surprise was all the hesitation he got before Jordan wrapped a hand around the back of Derek’s neck to reel him in closer. Lips opened under his own, soft and tasting like sleep. Jordan rolled onto his back, pulling Derek on top of him so their bodies were pressed flush together. They were both half-hard. Bracing a hand on the bed next to Jordan, Derek ground down against him with a groan that forced him to break the kiss.

“Is this okay?” he asked, because this wasn’t really what he’d intended when he kissed Jordan. Derek didn’t really know _what_ he’d intended.

“Yeah,” Jordan breathed, leaning in for another kiss. It didn’t last two seconds before he pulled back and muttered, “No. Fuck. Wait.” He pushed back on Derek’s shoulder.

Derek stilled, lifting up a bit.

Jordan rubbed his hands over his face and groaned in frustration. “We shouldn’t.”

“ _Why not_?” Derek pressed, exasperated.

The hands came away, and Jordan looked at him, patient and pained all at once. “I don’t want to make things complicated between us. You’re important to me.”

“We’re friends,” Derek summarized. He sat up, kneeling between Jordan’s legs and averting his eyes away from the hard-on apparent through his sleep pants.

“You’re my best friend,” Jordan said. He sat up against the headboard and pulled a pillow over his lap.

Derek nodded. “You, too.”

“And if we start something like this, it’s gonna get...”

“Complicated,” Derek supplied. He tried to quell the hurt and disappointment that had already begun to fester in his gut. Jordan was right, of course. Derek had never been good at relationships. His romantic life had a fucking body count. He would screw things up, and then what would they have?

Unable to stay there in bed where their scents had mingled, Derek got up and went to his dresser. He glanced at his phone, sitting on top. It was Christmas Eve. “Do you work today?” he asked.

“No. I’ve got day shift tomorrow. We can do presents early before I leave and then I’ll be back in time for dinner.” Jordan didn’t move to get up. “Um… my parents were kind of hoping we could go out and do something today. All of us.”

Derek thought about the way Jordan had kissed him after dinner yesterday. The casual touches that would be expected of them all day today.

“If you don’t want to,” Jordan assured him, “I can make an excuse.”

“No, I’ll go,” Derek said. “It’s fine.”

Maybe it was twisted, but he realized that this could be his last chance for Jordan to touch him like that. He could spend the day pretending it was real. God, that even sounded pathetic in his head, but Derek would just have to take what he could get.

* * *

  
  


They went ice skating.

Really, it should have been a great time. He didn't have to make much conversation with Jordan’s parents, since they were moving around. Even when he did have to talk to them, there was always a ready topic of conversation around Jordan’s hockey obsession. It was the one sport where he was actually better at Derek, since he’d been skating since he was a little kid. The only one in the pack that could hold their own against him on ice skates was Boyd.

Cora came with, which diluted the situation nicely. She seemed more than happy to keep up conversation where Derek or Jordan fell short. While they were on the ice, she valiantly tried to relive her middle school figure skating aspirations, with mixed results.

“Oh, I’m still very impressed!” Madge called when Cora tried a jump spin and landed on her butt.

Plus, Derek _liked_ skating. It put him slightly off-balance in a way that he never felt otherwise. He imagined this was how humans felt all the time, just walking around. It should have been the perfect, easy outing to get them through the day.

Only he and Jordan held hands almost the entire time.

It was exactly what he’d been hoping for before they left, of course. Playing at being a couple, enjoying it while he could. As they stepped onto the ice, Jordan held out his hand to Derek and didn’t let go. At first, it was fine. Just playing the part. Then it started to feel too comfortable. Derek started to believe their own lie. Then he realized it, and then the misery set in. Every twitch of Jordan’s fingers against his hand, every shift of glove against glove, reminded him of how fake this all was. That this was something he couldn’t have. Wasn’t even supposed to want. And that he’d never have it again.

Some time after his parents went back home, maybe January, Jordan would call them and tell them that he and Derek had split up. Amicable, no doubt. They would just mutually agree that it wasn’t working out, they wanted different things.

The really miserable part was that they both seemed to want the same thing: they wanted to be together, but not more than they wanted to be friends. Jordan was right, of course. Derek thought on (read: brooded on) the topic while they made their loops around the ice rink. Relationships were fragile, especially early on. Derek felt pretty strongly about Jordan, but if Jordan’s feelings for him weren’t as well-developed, they could easily fall apart not long after they started dating.

They could get through this bit of awkwardness. They might not make it through a one-sided break-up.

“Hey, Derek?” Cora called. She stood at the edge of the rink, hand on one of her skates. “Could you give me a hand? My laces got stuck around the blade.”

With a miserable sense of relief, Derek let go of Jordan’s hand and skated over to her. He let her lean on his arm as she hopped on one skate to the entryway. “How’d you manage that?” he asked.

She lifted an eyebrow at him, then dropped onto a bench. “I did it on purpose. You look like someone just bought you a puppy and killed it in front of you.”

“No I don’t,” he said firmly. “I look normal.” He’d been very careful about looking normal. Smiling even. He’d been doing all the right things.

Cora rolled her eyes as she unwrapped the laces from the blade of her skate. “Sure, to someone who doesn’t know you. Now what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Derek muttered. He cast a glance toward the ice. Jordan had caught up with his parents and was skating with them. “It’s just awkward. The whole situation.”

“Why, because you’d rather be dating him for real?”

His gaze snapped back to her, more than a little panicked.

“Like I said,” Cora snorted. “I _know you_.” She stared at him for a long moment. When he didn’t say anything, she sighed and stood up. Grabbing his hand as they stepped onto the ice, Cora called, “Jordan! I’m stealing your skating partner!”

They skated quietly for half a lap before Derek murmured, “Thanks.”

* * *

  
  


They all watched a movie together in Derek’s loft that night, while Cora fussed over what a terrible job Derek had done decorating the tree she’d put up against his will. “You can’t do tinsel _and_ garlands, Derek,” she scolded. “It looks tacky. Madge, doesn’t it look tacky? Thank god I saw this _before_ Christmas. Santa would give us coal on principle alone.”

Derek propped his chin in his hand, watching her disentangle the garlands from the branches. “I’m pretty sure Santa is giving you coal no matter what,” he told her.

She stuck her tongue out at him.

Gene was so terrible at watching movies that it was fun again. He loudly complained about the characters, asked about things that had happened earlier in the movie that he’d already forgotten, and refused to refer to the male lead as anything other than “Mr. Fancy Haircut.” Cora seemed delighted by his bad behavior and egged him on at every opportunity.

It was enough to make Derek forget how closely he and Jordan were sitting on the couch, sides pressed together and Derek’s arm stretched over the back of the couch behind him. He didn’t even notice Jordan nodding off until his head lolled onto Derek’s shoulder. His heart ached at the sight of him, soft and vulnerable. Comfortable.

When the movie ended, Derek said, “I should get him to bed.”

“He always used to do that on car trips when he was little,” Madge reminisced, smiling fondly at them. “He would knock out, and there wasn’t a thing that could wake him up.”

After everyone else was gone, Derek carefully twisted himself around to pick Jordan up in a show of strength that wouldn’t have passed for human. It was a little awkward, maneuvering him up the spiral staircase to the loft, but Jordan didn’t wake, even when his feet knocked against the railing. Once Derek had set him on the bed, he hesitated.

Right. Because this was the part where he got Jordan undressed. Before this whole mess, he wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Now, it felt like crossing a line.

He started with the shoes. Those were safe enough, dropping quietly onto the floor one after the other. Then he paused again. Derek thought about just waking Jordan up, but that meant they’d have to go through a whole awkward thing about sleeping in the same bed again, and he just…

Fuck, he couldn’t deal with that tonight.

So he made quick work of the fly of Jordan’s jeans and tugged them off. No lingering touches. He didn’t even really let himself look until his friend was securely covered by the blankets, head tipped back against the pillow with his mouth slightly agape.

Derek wished he had never kissed Jordan at all. He wished he didn’t know what it felt like.

* * *

  
  


When he woke the next morning, it was to the feeling of Jordan pulling away from him and getting out of bed. Derek couldn’t really tell how they’d been sleeping, but they must have cuddled up close in the night. Jordan didn’t even look back at him, just went straight for the bathroom.

Derek sighed and rolled forward into the spot Jordan had vacated. It smelled strongly of him. Of them both. But it also smelled… He frowned and pressed his face close into the pillow.

It smelled like sadness.

Maybe this stupid thing had ruined their friendship after all.

They both got ready in relative silence, and Derek had coffee ready just in time for Peter to arrive and take over the kitchen entirely. Madge and Gene came after that, dressed in cozy sweaters and slippers, their arms full of presents. Cora came last, through the freight elevator, wheeling a huge and poorly wrapped box on a dolly. It wasn’t even strictly box-shaped, just sort of lumpy and rectangular, taller than Derek by a good two feet.

“This is from Jordan!” she declared. “I was stashing it for him.” A much smaller object sailed across the loft, and Derek only just caught it before it hit him in the head. It was wrapped in the same paper as the big present. “That’s from me,” Cora said. “It’s a book.”

Derek hummed and set it down near the tree before turning his attention back to the monstrosity she’d wheeled in. “Jordan, what the hell?” he laughed.

Jordan shrugged. “You’ll see.”

After breakfast, Madge and Gene passed out their presents first. He bought her a gift card to a spa. She showed him pictures of a new kitchen appliance she’d gotten him, which was waiting back in Iowa. For Jordan, they had brought some clothes, a gift card, and a box of candies.

“Hey, Twin Bings!” Jordan cheered when he opened it, pulling out a little packet to show off.

“Twin whats?” Cora asked.

“You can’t get them here,” he explained. “It’s chocolate and there’s this fluffy cherry stuff inside.” Which, of course, lead to him forcing Derek, Peter, and Cora all to try one.

Derek wasn’t big on sweets, but the look of joy on Jordan’s face had him smiling after he bit in. “They’re good,” he agreed.

“They’re weird,” Cora said, and Peter voiced agreement.

“Derek, you must be an Iowan at heart,” Gene praised.

God. Derek swore to himself that he’d get a handle on these crushing stabs of dread and disappointment just as soon as Jordan’s parents were gone.

“This is for you, dear,” Madge said, passing Derek a small box.

He looked up at her in surprise. “Oh. I… I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to get anything for you.”

“Oh, I know. We’re the ones that surprised you,” she assured him. “It’s nothing, really.”

Derek opened the box. Inside was a pair of gray fingerless gloves, clearly hand-made. “Thank you,” he murmured as he lifted them out.

“I hope they fit,” she said. “I didn’t know what to get you, and I’ve been on this crocheting spree.”

He tugged them on to show her that they fit, and couldn’t bring himself to take them off again. His mother had never been the crafty type, but Laura had gone through a knitting phase. He’d left the scarf she’d knitted for him back in New York. Presumably, the landlord had thrown it away with the rest of their old things.

“Alright, open mine,” Cora said, dropping the wrapped book into his lap. It was a history book by an author he liked, and she’d taped a gift card for a local bookstore into the front cover. She had also gotten Peter a jar of his stupidly expensive hair gel, a coffee-of-the-month subscription for Jordan. “I know you’re used to the mud they drink at the station, but you’re going to develop a sense of taste if it kills me,” she declared.

Derek had gotten some workout equipment for Cora, including a set of resistance bands that she threatened to sling at him. He passed Peter his gift, wrapped in the same bag it had come in last year.

“Ohhh, I wonder what _this_ could be,” Peter enunciated theatrically, carefully hefting the bag.

“They do this every year,” Cora explained to the Parrishes.

“I don’t know. Could be something different this year.” Derek played it up, too.

“I don’t think they even like doing it,” Cora added. “I think they just know that _I_ hate it.”

Peter reached in past the tissue paper. “Hmm, let’s see here – oh!” He pulled the bottle free. “Look at that. My favorite scotch. How did you know?”

“It’s always his favorite scotch,” Cora sighed.

Then it was Jordan’s turn. Derek passed him a bag. “Open this one first.” It was the beer.

“Oh, man! I was on the lottery for this one, but I didn’t get it,” he exclaimed as he turned the bottle in his hands.

“I know,” Derek laughed. “You complained about it for a week.”

“Wait, did you get the lottery and not tell me?”

“Nope. I waited outside after the release and bought it off someone that did.” For three times the buying price, no less.

Jordan didn’t even hesitate as he leaned over and tackled Derek in a sideways hug. “Thank you.”

Derek’s heart did an uncomfortable little flip, and he passed the box next. “Here, there’s this, too.”

The way Jordan’s eyes lit up at the sight of those tickets, Derek decided, was worth whatever bullshit Peter was up to. Hell, it probably won him clemency for two more evil deeds afterward. “Spring training!” he shouted. “Royals versus Giants. Ohhh my god, we’re gonna kill each other.” He sounded absolutely delighted at the prospect. He looked down at the tickets as he lifted them out of the box, then paused. He looked up at Derek with an odd sort of expression.

Before Derek knew what was happening, Jordan had leaned forward and pressed their lips together in a firm, sweet kiss that made the whole world sputter to a halt. He pulled back a hairsbreadth, grinning, and said, “I love you.”

For a few beautiful minutes, Derek believed the whole thing: the kiss, the declaration, the look in Jordan’s eye. He felt warm all over, mind floating somewhere untouchable.

Madge said, “Here, Jordan, you do your presents next.”

Right. The kiss was part of the act. The love, part of the act. Derek didn’t really absorb anything as the others opened their presents from Jordan. He just sat there, trying to shore up whatever feeble barriers he had left around his heart.

“Alright, let’s find out what this monstrosity is,” Peter said, clapping a hand onto Derek’s shoulder. It probably looked like Derek had gotten to his feet of his own accord, but there had been a bit of preternatural strength in hauling him up by a single shoulder.

Derek got his head together well enough to tear away the wrapping paper, which came away with some haphazardly taped bits of cardboard. Underneath was…

“A couch,” he said, stepping back, then looking at Jordan where he sat on the stiff, uncomfortable couch. The new one was plush and cushioned with soft black leather.

Jordan grinned at him and rubbed at his earlobe. “You keep saying you’re going to replace this one, but at this point, no one believes you. I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

Derek laughed. Just like that, he felt more steady. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

“Here, I’ll help you get it down,” Peter said, “but first, open mine.” He passed Derek a simple white envelope with his name written on the back.

Inside was a piece of paper. It said,

_He’s in love with you.  
You idiot._

Derek stared at the words, mouth hanging open. Was this some sort of joke? No. His uncle was self-serving and conniving, but he wasn’t cruel. He wouldn’t hang Derek out to dry like this, on Christmas, in front of Jordan’s parents. He wouldn’t tell him this unless it was true.

And if it was true…

“What is it, dear?” Madge asked.

“Oh. Um, it’s, uh – ”

“A gift card,” Peter explained, reaching over and deftly shuffling a little card in front of the paper.

“For...” Derek frowned at the card. “A nail salon?”

“Just because you’re a man doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take care of your nails, Derek. _Man_ -icures are all the rage now. You’ll like it, trust me. Phuong does my nails, and she is an angel.”

Derek gaped at him, then laughed. He slung an arm around Peter’s shoulders and hugged him, maybe a little tighter than he usually did. “Thanks.”

* * *

  
  


He didn’t get a chance to be alone with Jordan before he had to leave for his shift, but Derek initiated their goodbye kiss this time. Just a quick peck and a, “Be safe. Love you.”

Because he did. He loved Jordan. He’d loved him as a friend, and now he was _in_ love with him. And Jordan? Jordan was in love with him, too. He spent the whole day with Jordan’s parents and Cora, working their way through the eggnog and watching while Peter went increasingly feral over the state of his Christmas dinner.

“Does he need some help?” Gene asked in a near-whisper.

“No,” Derek assured him, watching as Peter cursed out his baster, ripped the end off of it, then retrieved a back-up baster from the packaging. “This is normal.”

Cora leaned in, conspiratorial and added, “He likes the sense of impending crisis. He thrives on it.”

Derek took another sip of eggnog. “It’ll all turn out perfectly, though. Either that or he’ll kill us all to eliminate the witnesses to his failure.”

“We don’t have proof,” Cora said, “but we think that’s what happened to his college roommate.”

* * *

  
  


Madge and Cora went downstairs to make cookies in the early afternoon. Cora had started to get interested in baking after finding an old stash of their dad’s recipes last year. Derek and Gene stayed in the loft and watched the football game. Neither of them were rooting for either team, but Gene seemed to have a vested interest in watching The Packers lose, so Derek joined along in that.

As promised, Peter’s meal came together perfectly at the very last minute. Jordan got back just in time, having stopped by his apartment to change. Dinner was a cheerful affair, everyone lavishing praise on Peter’s cooking, and Peter soaking it up with ill-feigned modesty.

As they dug into the Christmas cookies, Derek lowered a hand under the table and slipped it into Jordan’s. The smile he got in return was so bright and sweet, Derek couldn’t help but think that he could look at it his whole life and never stop wanting to see it again.

They got halfway through another Christmas movie before Madge and Gene started nodding off and headed back to their apartment.

“Cora,” Peter said after they were gone, “we should probably go, too. These idiots have a lot of time to make up for.”

She groaned, stretching and getting up off her spot on the floor. “No kidding. You guys are actually the worst, you know that?”

“This was your whole scheme?” Derek asked, too happy to even by annoyed. “Just… torture me for a couple of days before putting me out of my misery?”

Peter scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. First I made sure that Jordan had a Christmas shift so his parents would have to come here. _Then_ I tortured you for a couple of days before putting you out of your misery.”

Cora grinned. “It was that or hang mistletoe and hope for the best. We figured this was easier.”

Jordan’s mouth dropped open in shock, but then his brow furrowed. “What do you mean ‘put you out of your misery’?”

Cora huffed and walked over to the side table that the smaller gifts had been set on. She carried the envelope and the ticket box to the couch where they sat. Derek’s envelope went to Jordan, Jordan’s ticket box to Derek. Under the tickets, written in marker on the bottom of the box, were the words,

_Jordan,  
I love you.  
Derek_

“That’s not even close to my handwriting,” Derek said.

“Wait, you didn’t – ”

“Merry Christmas!” Peter called as he walked out the door, Cora in tow.

“You’re welcome!” she yelled.

The door closed, and they both sat there in stunned silence for a long moment.

“So… you didn’t write that,” Jordan said. He looked absolutely crushed.

“No, but it’s true,” Derek assured him. He pointed to the envelope. “And that… is that true?”

Jordan chewed on his lip. “Yeah.”

Derek felt himself shifting closer, unable to stop the warring surges of hope and caution. “So where does that leave us? Are you still worried about making things complicated?”

A slow smile spread across Jordan’s lips. “I’m pretty sure this is as complicated as it gets, Der.” He wrapped a hand around the back of Derek’s neck and leaned forward, stopping just short of his lips. After a moment’s hesitation, he closed the distance, pressing their lips together.

From there, it was a frantic shuffle, hands raking through hair, tugging one another closer, shoving jackets out of the way. Derek ended up straddling Jordan’s lap, kissing him senseless while Jordan’s hands slid up the back of his shirt, then down under the waistband of his pants. “Should we go to bed?” Derek breathed against his lips.

Jordan hummed, ducking his head to kiss and lick at Derek’s neck. “It is a new couch.”

“You’re right,” Derek said. “We should christen it.”

Barking a loud laugh against Derek’s neck, Jordan shifted them around again, pressing Derek down onto his back. It left him cradled between Derek’s thighs, rocking their hips together before he sat back and tugged at Derek’s shirt. “Come on, get this off.”

Derek obliged, then lifted his hips as Jordan undid his jeans and tugged them down around his thighs. He was hard, and the way Jordan stared at it and licked his lips was enough to make his cock twitch in the confines of his briefs.

“I’m gonna take these off,” Jordan said, gesturing toward Derek’s underwear.

It was possible that all of the air had suddenly left the room. “Okay,” Derek said.

“Then I’m gonna suck your dick.”

Derek nodded quickly. “Okay.”

And Jordan did exactly as he promised. With quick, efficient movements, he had Derek completely naked on the couch, Jordan still mostly clothed as he ducked his head and licked up the length of Derek’s cock. And then it was just soft, wet heat and gentle suction, Jordan’s hand twisting around the base and then sliding down to massage his balls.

“Fuck, Jordan,” he choked out. He had a hand on the back of Jordan’s head before he really had time to think about it, just stroking through his hair and feeling the slow bob of his head. Derek closed his eyes to focus on the sensations, the stroke of Jordan’s tongue and the vibration as he moaned. When he opened them again, Jordan was staring up at him, cheeks flushed pink and lips stretched tight around his cock. God, what a sight. Derek’s hand slid down, stroking his cheek. Jordan’s eyes fluttered shut.

He was already feeling so, so close when he felt a dry finger slide further back, just barely teasing over his hole. Derek made a surprised little groan.

Jordan pulled off but didn’t move his finger. “This okay?” he asked.

“I just… I might not last if you do,” Derek warned.

Grinning at him, Jordan said, “Good.” Then, because apparently he was trying to _kill_ Derek, he slipped the finger into his own mouth and sucked on it while maintaining very purposeful eye contact.

Derek whined. “Oh my god.”

Jordan dropped his hand again, the finger pressed against him, but this time just barely teasing its way inside. He leaned forward over Derek and kissed his chest. “I can’t believe I get to do this.”

“You can’t believe _you_ – oh my god, you’re unbelievable,” Derek laughed. He leaned down far enough to catch Jordan’s lips with his own. Just as Jordan’s tongue slipped into his mouth, his finger slipped inside, too, and Derek’s moan was lost into the kiss.

“I’m not going to fuck you tonight,” Jordan murmured against his lips. His finger twisted slightly, then crooked, searching. “God, I’m just not patient enough. I’m gonna come the second you touch me. But tomorrow? Tomorrow I’m going to fuck you so good.” His finger found Derek’s prostate, a full-body shiver following in its wake. Derek’s head fell back against the couch, and then Jordan was sliding back down.

“Fuck. Jord, I’m gonna,” he tried to warn. He had been prepared for a blowjob, but Jordan Parrish talking dirty with a finger up his ass? Derek didn’t think anyone could prepare for that. The moment Jordan’s lips closed around him again, he was gone, shuddering while Jordan worked him through it.

He barely had the coordination to pull Jordan back up against him. “Why are you wearing fucking clothes?” he mumbled, tugging at Jordan’s shirt. Derek’s own clumsy hands might have been more hindrance than help, but between the two of them, they got Jordan undressed, then rolled onto their sides.

Jordan gave a noisy gasp when Derek wrapped a hand around his dick, his hand tightening where it gripped Derek’s bicep. “I told you.” He breathed a laugh. “I’m not going to last long. Not after that.”

Derek pressed him onto his back, moving over him as he stroked with slow, steady movements. “Not after what?” he teased, leaning in to kiss at Jordan’s neck. “Not after sucking me off? How long have you wanted to do that?”

Arching underneath Derek, Jordan groaned. “You have no idea how long. Derek, please. Little faster.”

He realized, perhaps with less dread than it warranted, that he would give Jordan pretty much anything he asked for. Probably would from now on. Derek’s strokes sped up, and he only just had time to pull back and watch Jordan’s face as he came apart. His eyes squeezed shut, mouth falling open as he panted and shook. “Derek,” he gasped. His grip on Derek’s arm tightened again. “Derek. God.”

Derek watched his face as he came back to himself, watched every line of tension ease and settle away from his face until it melted, effortlessly, into a smile. Soft green eyes blinked open, staring up at him with adoration he couldn’t believe was his.

“Merry Christmas,” Jordan whispered. His arm lifted, and Derek could tell he was reaching for his earlobe. He beat him to it with his mouth and kissed it.

“Merry Christmas,” Derek agreed.

* * *

  
  


They drove Madge and Gene to the airport the next morning. After he pulled her suitcase from the trunk for her, Madge wrapped her arms tightly around Derek’s middle. “You promise you’ll come visit us soon,” she said.

“I promise,” Derek agreed.

“I’m so happy we got to meet you finally,” she told him. “You make Jordan so happy. Even before you started dating, the way he talked about you… Well, I’m so relieved he found someone that makes him feel that way.”

Derek felt himself flush.

“Mom, stop gushing,” Jordan said, cutting in to give her a hug. “The traffic gestapo are going to bash the windshield in if we stand around too long.” Sure enough, there were some traffic wands being waved in their direction in a distinctly threatening manner.

Gene hugged Derek, too – a two-thumps-on-the-back sort of hug, but affectionate nonetheless. “We’ll call you after we land,” he told Jordan, then set his attention to corralling his wife toward the airport doors.

Jordan and Derek climbed back into the car. As they made their way out of the airport traffic, Jordan glanced over at him and said, “Do you have work to do around the building today?”

Derek hummed, eyes on the road as he merged back onto the highway. “I was thinking about it,” he replied evenly. “But then I was thinking that you made some very interesting promises last night.”

A hand slipped into his and squeezed. “I was thinking it might be a good New Year’s Resolution, to be more careful about keeping promises.” Jordan tipped his head to the side thoughtfully. “It’s either that or to stop telling big, catastrophic lies.”

“You know,” Derek said, “I think lies are a bit underrated.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love getting comments!! You can also come visit me on [tumblr](https://luulapants.tumblr.com/).


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